"This; the song of sons and daughters
Hide; the heart of who we are
Making peace to build a future
Strong, united, working 'til we fall."
- Solaris work song, unattributed
Kael watched the two distant barges approaching at speed.
"Who's in charge of communications here?" The Tenno asked.
For a moment nobody responded, entirely too terrified to move.
"Uh… me." Teico eventually raised a hesitant hand. "Teico Mand; Communications officer."
Kael-as-Volt nodded.
"Open a channel, Teico."
Teico responded promptly. The com-light pinged green on the edge of the command throne once more. He flashed a thumbs up.
Kael began, solemn voice stern:
"To the crews of the Short Position and Forward Transaction, consider this your first and final warning. Cease your pursuit. Cut your losses, leave this place. The only alternative is death."
Kael killed the transmission. He watched the monitor carefully.
Both ships continued inbound, unmoved by his words.
"Very well." The Frame offered the slightest shrug. "Helm, bring us about. Intercept course."
The helmsman, Pohld, spluttered in protest.
"That's suicide." he balked. "It's two against one!"
Volt cocked his head to one side.
"You doubt the capabilities of this ship?"
Pohld felt the glare from the rest of the bridge crew. He held his hands up defensively.
"Look, we can mix it up with the best of 'em. Don't get me wrong. Have done before, will do again. But our shields took a pounding. Cells are cooked. On a good day, we might have a shot. But now?"
Pohld let the question hang. The Tenno studied him.
"What's your name?" Kael asked.
"Enric Pohld, Tenno; so it please you." Pohld sweated.
"And the rest of you, you agree with Mr. Pohld's assessment?"
A chorus of nods slowly took hold. The Tenno took it in, slowly nodding.
Kael came to a decision.
"I am versed in matters of war. Have faith, Pohld. Bring the ship about. I need a volunteer to show me to engineering."
Spendric raised a hand. He was a squat fellow, greasy and sweating. Long oppressed, he seemed morbidly delighted to see Bravic's corpse still smouldering on the deck.
Volt rose to his feet.
"Telin, you have command. Kelpo: someone tries anything, burn them."
"Why am I in charge?" Telin hissed privately.
Kael kept his voice low.
"Because you are appallingly self-interested, Telin Voss, but dependably so. Keep this ship alive. Keep this crew alive."
Kael raised his voice. "If anyone so much as touches my companions, know that I will hold each of you collectively responsible. Good luck."
On that optimistic note, Volt swept from the bridge, the diminutive Spendric in tow.
Telin took a seat in the command chair. All eyes were on him now.
"Well, you heard the Tenno. Bring us about. Ready weapon systems. And get that damned carcass off my bridge."
The crew shook their heads in disbelief, but begrudgingly did as instructed. There was a change in pitch as the engines shifted. Slowly, the Severance began to turn. Two of the crew dragged the remains of Kahrl Bravic from the bridge, grimacing from the stench.
Telin looked around at Kelpo, flashing his eyebrows and grinning.
"See? All according to plan."
"Drone control back online." reported a staffer.
A sigh of relief broke out throughout the Boardroom.
"Manufactories?" Kren Maruk pressed.
"Pending. ETA ten minutes."
"Shorten it to five, or it comes out of your bonus."
Kren crossed the room to where Kef Mehrino stood apart, arms folded.
"Problem, Director?"
The senior trader's fleshy eyes were suspicious slits; locked on the Severance Package as it wheeled about, angling back toward the two incoming barges intended to reinforce their delivery. It defied all logic or reason, but it looked like an intercept pattern.
"I can't get Bravic on the line." Mehrino mused, before turning to Kren Maruk. "So I took the liberty of contacting the Exchange off-world brokerage directly."
Kef Mehrino turned to Kren Maruk, expression severe.
"Ready an intercept team. We can't take any chances. That delivery means everything."
On the ground, the return of Corpus proxies radically changed the fortunes of the Solaris fighters on the ground.
The fight shifted from an even, albeit-determined infantry battle to an ever-building tide of incoming drones. Aerial units, two-legged Mobile Offensive Armatures, they came in all manner of shapes and sizes. The resistance advance slowed to a crawl.
One sided scarcely covered it. Solaris insurgents cried out warnings as tides of Moa began bursting out across the concourse, emitters spitting. The faces of the mechanised rebels flashed cries of alarm moments before they were cut down.
"Stay in cover!" Vanger Hosk bellowed, ducking back as a brace of shots peppered the doorway he hid behind. The storm of incoming fire was numbing in its intensity.
Hosk swore vehemently. They had been so close!
Even Sara, over-extended at the very tip of the Solaris spear, found herself hard pressed. Proxies mobbed Mirage on all sides. Soon she found herself alone, in the open plaza just before Watch Control.
One Furis clacked empty. She hurled it at an incoming Moa, then dumped the remains of her last machine pistol into the next. Her blade-whip was in her hand now; voiding warranties with blinding speed and savage strokes.
Not enough. Not nearly enough.
This was how the Corpus maintained their empire. Their drones were cost-effective; often cheaply designed with disposable intent. But they had numbers.
Mirage backflipped to avoid a lancing rail shot at the last second. She threw herself forward into a tumbling roll, which brought her safely behind a pock-marked plinth that carried a bust of Nef Anyo. The Moa targeting systems held little sentiment for piety. The bust quickly became unrecognisable, steaming heap of slag.
Sara was about to call for support when backup seemingly arrived all of its own accord.
A rotary cannon split the air.
Moa went down in droves. Sparks flew.
Sara had trained with nearly every conceivable weapon there was to use in the Origin System. Bows, spears, plasma cannons; even Ostron slingshots and fishing spears. She knew them all.
The sounds she heard made no sense, here on Venus.
A Lex, barking sharp cracks; tightly disciplined. The bolt-snap return of a Grinlock rifle. That damned cannon; shrill and howling. A Grineer weapon; too large to be carried by her fellow insurgents. None of those noises bothered her though. Not in the same way as the next thing she heard.
The swirling fury of Void unleashed; of reality tearing itself apart.
Moa shrilled as they were consumed by scalding power.
By the time Mirage's head poked back above the parapet, the wave of drones had been scattered in component pieces across the plaza. Some had been scorched clean into the pavement; rendered little more than ashen smears. The only Moa still standing nursed a hole in its head; doomed to walk in an endless circle, over and over, before eventually tottering over and giving out with a final flit of sparks.
Her mysterious benefactors were already gone.
"No way…" Sara breathed.
Solaris workers charged by, toting rifles and shouting renewed encouragement; dragging the wounded to safety. The advance resumed.
Mirage stood there, Sara's amazement riveting the Frame in place.
"Something the matter?" Hosk appeared at her side.
Mirage shook her head. Sara's voice didn't sound at all convinced.
"N-nothing."
Hosk offered her a heavy revolver. It was a Kitgun; a kit-bashed cobble of parts; rendered into a fearsome improvised sidearm.
"Time is short. We need to move, Tenno."
Mirage nodded, numbly taking the revolver. Sara shook herself.
There was a battle to win.
Neera followed the Grinner's mighty shoulders as they moved down the alley. She was toying with an earpiece she looted from one of the Exchange Agents. Her father had taught her a few tricks, before the Corpus took him. Back when her uncle was still welcome at the bar, and her mother had been alive and so full of warmth. She fiddled with the criss-crossing wires, trying to reprogram the signal. It was difficult to do on the move.
Isolde kept stealing conflicted glances back over her shoulder.
Only Vern noticed. They were in field. This wasn't like her.
He shot her a reproachful look.
"Eyes up, Isolde."
Isolde snapped out of her distraction, eyes wide.
"They're here."
"The Tenno? I saw."
Isolde stopped in her tracks.
"Not just any Tenno, Terrenus. My Cell is here."
The train of rogue bounty hunters slowly came to a halt, turning back to look at her.
Vern placed a kind hand on her shoulder.
"Look around, girl. This won't end well. We can't be here when it does."
Isolde grimaced, then eventually nodded. They continued moving.
High above, Eythan watched them; one hand on his golden nikana.
"Targets closing." Teico reported. "Twenty minutes out."
The Severance Package bounded ahead at full speed; weapon systems tracking to bear on the Forward Transaction and the Short Position. They returned the favour, turrets whirring about. Barge engagements were short-ranged, brutal affairs. To outright demolish an enemy ship was to risk destroying precious cargo. Salvage was king. This meant boarding parties and savage hand to hand combat.
A tension hung in the air. Weapons crews loaded harpoons and sweated over cranks, as they furiously winched the crude launchers to bear. Others readied the altogether more elegant Corpus innovations; hauling in fresh power cells and readying emergency plasma tethers; EMP cannons and rail launchers. This was a frontier fight, only this time there was no frontier. The entire Upper Tier watched the looming confrontation.
To those on the ground, it was difficult to decide whether the Severance's bull-charge was madness or bravery. The Severance presented the most muscular of the three ships, yes, but had only a fraction of the shields; had been visibly bruised and battered by the insurgency's ramshackle air corps. Its hull was dented and warped, even from a distance.
Their opponents by contrast were fighting fresh; fully loaded. Experienced crews. Crews whom the Severance's crew had themselves fought alongside; had bled and drank with.
No longer. With Bravic gone the ties that bound were severed, replaced by an altogether more Corpus desire for ruthless profit. A Tenno was on board. A Tenno worth a lot of credits.
Their new ownership soon became clear; marked by the registration sigils on the radar display: a platinum coin, encircled by a coiled serpent.
Telin recognised it immediately, and it chilled him to the core.
The Exchange.
Telin took a deep breath.
This brawl could become the stuff of scavver legend. The Severance Package, helmed by an inexperienced, rogue captain; defying all odds.
Or a fiery mess that flattened half the city.
Still, Telin had to start somewhere. He tried addressing the crew.
"So look, I know we didn't get off to a good start."
Kelpo winced. That was an understatement. The smell of fried Bravic stilled filled the air like sour bacon. The entire crew stared at him. Telin cleared his throat.
"But we're in this fight now. And we can win it. The kid thinks so, and I'm not inclined to argue."
"What kid?" frowned one crewman from the weapons station. He was a tattooed fellow; bushy-bearded, with arms like hams.
"The… erm…" Telin fumbled for the most adequate word. "…Tenno. It's the kid you, well, kidnapped."
"It's what?" Teico gaped.
"It's a bloody psycho is what it is." The burly crewman huffed, folding his arms. A rumble of assent rippled throughout the bridge.
"Shut it, Stren," Pohld the helmsman interjected, blowing up the holo-display for all to see. "See those signatures?"
Stren went pale.
"Exactly. Exchange ships, under contract." Pohld stress the words, then nodded to Telin. "Now, you were saying mate."
"I'm saying the Tenno thinks we can win this fight. But this is your ship, not mine. You know how it works, how it fights."
Stren threw his hands up in the air.
"We've no Captain! Your Tenno bloody went and torched him!"
"And who says he didn't have it coming?" That was Teico. "How many crews we scrapped over the years, eh? How many people we sold?"
A silence fell. Teico pressed again, voice small but clear in the open bridge.
"I'm just sayin' he might have had it comin', is all. Even these two. They had salvage rights. Good claim too. Processed the order myself. Bravic stopped me. Said it went no further than us. As he always did."
"He was making us Profit." A crewman growled. One or two grunted in agreement.
"And what if it was us that made that claim, eh? What then?"
They had no answer to that.
To Telin's surprise, Kelpo filled the gap.
"It's irrelevant." Kelpo said, stepping forward. "Profit, blame; who's right or wrong. It doesn't matter."
Kelpo pointed out the window.
"They're coming, one way or another. We know how it works."
"Us or them." Stren growled.
"Us or them." Kelpo nodded gravely. "Now... you gonna let it be them?"
A growled-murmur of united defiance went around the bridge. Even without the flamethrower in his hands, there was something about Kelpo's ruined face that spoke to them. The scavvers had seen the frontier, had lived its brutality, just like them.
That earned them a modicum of respect, even amongst a crew as hardened as the Severance.
The two hostile barges drifted ever closer.
"So how do we win?" Telin asked aloud.
The bridge crew exchanged glances. Stren was the first to speak.
"Forward Transaction's got the tonnage, but the Position's the real threat." Stren scratched at his jowls with stubby fingers, as he pointed at the smaller of the two ships.
"They won't risk the Gravitron, not over the city, but it's still got heavier ordnance; thicker plating. Helped rigged it me-self."
One by one they interjected, an uneasy democracy; underpinned by decades of combined experience. Anecdotes and rumours, mixed with observations and suggestions. Old stories about a frontier fight here, a replaced hull section or stressed sensor module there. Notes were taken. A hasty plan began to form.
All the while, the barges raced ever closer, rumbling towards a showdown over the burning city.